I do not own Azumanga Daioh.

Written for the 31 Days challenge of August 21: Who would take us to be women? This is a sequel to Letters to Yomi. Keep in mind that sequels are never as good as the original xD

Letter to Tomo
Dear Tomo,

I don't what this thing is, this sheet laying on my table. It's in your handwriting, which I know oh so very well, after watching you carefully copy my homework day after day.

Is it true? Do you write me a letter every year? If so, then I really don't understand you.

Why would someone like you like me? You're everything I'm not, and vice versa. I'm smart, you're not; I've got bigger boobs than you; I'm taller than you; you're neverendingly energetic; you're fickle. I could go on forever. We have nothing in common.

How did we end up together? Of course I remember the day, but I still can't figure out for the life of me why it happened. You just come up to me, the new girl, and ask me if I'm smart. I was nine and more than a little confused by your sudden appearance, so I just said that I didn't know. You asked me if I did my homework, and I told you I did.

You know what, I take it back. I know why it happened. You were too lazy even back then to make an effort. Who knew that you're laziness could come in handy.

Because it did. I'm glad—sometimes—that you're my friend. You were there when both my parents were out working, and going to business meetings, and company parties. You, too, knew about living alone in your house while your parents went off to work, so we never had to explain those things to one another.

One time, we were both at my house, and you were looking through my parent's cabinets for alcohol you were always convinced was there, and you suddenly turned to me. Your face was so serious it shocked me for a second, and when you spoke, I couldn't even think up a witty response.

Yomi, who will take us to be women?

What an odd question. I never thought about it, really, and I simply answered I don't know, because in truth I didn't know. Then you kept on looking and I went back to the book I had been reading.

I know now. We took each other. Together we grew up, knowing the good and the bad. We found out about sex together, we found out about music and drugs together. We're going to be women together.

None of this explains why you like me. No, why you love me. Why couldn't you talk to me about these things instead of bottling them up inside so that you explode? Did these stupid letters ever really help? You would just stuff them under your mattress or whatever, but that wouldn't have ever helped.

Tomo, I'm your friend, no matter how much we rile each other up. You're the one person that's always, always been there for me. The others don't know, can't know, because if they did then what we have together wouldn't be wholly ours, but partly theirs, and I don't want that.

I know you don't want that, selfish as you are. I'm not going to drag this on, because after all, you do have a fairly short attention span. I'm going to call you right now, and ask if I can come over (I know your parents are gone for the week). Then we're going to go up to your room, I'm going to kiss you, give you this letter and run.

Wish me luck.

Love, Yomi.